Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU and PAROLLES. 1 Lord. It is the count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram.

King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face; Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well composed thee. Thy father's moral parts May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.

Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's.
King. I would I had that corporal soundness now,
As when thy father, and myself, in friend<inp
First tried our soldiership! He did look far
Into the service of the time, and was
Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long;
But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And wore us out of act. It much repairs⚫ me
To talk of your good father: in his youth
He had the wit, which I can well observe
To-day in our young lords; but they may jest,
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honour.
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
His equal had awaked them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and at this time,
His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him
He used as creatures of another place;
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,

In their poor praise he humbled: such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times;
Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now
But goers backward.

Ber. His good remembrance, Sir,

Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb;
So in approof lives not his epitaph,
As in your royal speech.

King. 'Would, were with him! He would al

ways say,

(Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words
He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,
To grow there, and to bear,)-Let me not live,-
Thus his good melancholy oft began,
On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,
When it was out,-Let me not live, quoth he,
After my fame lacks oil, to be the snuff
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgments are
Mere fathers of their garments: hose constancies
Expire before their fashions:-This he wish'd:
I, after him, do after him wish too,

Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home,
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,
To give some labourers room.

2 Lord. You are loved, Sir;

They, that least lend it you, shall lack you first. King. I fill a place, I know't.-How long is't,

count,

Since the physician at your father's died?
He was much famed.

Ber. Some six months since, my lord.

King. If he were living, I would try him yet ;Lend me an arm ;-the rest have worn me out With several applications :-Nature and sickness Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count; My son's no dearer.

Ber. Thank your majesty.

[Exeunt.-Flourish.

SCENE III-Rousillon.-A Room in the
COUNTESS's Palace.

Enter COUNTESS, STEWARD, and CLOWN. Count. I will now hear what say you of this gentlewoman?

Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well, that I am poor: though many of the rich are damn'd: but, if I may have your ladyship's good-will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may. Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar ? Clo. I do beg your good-will in this case. Count. In what case?

Clo. In Isbei's case, and mine own. Service is no heritage and, I think, I shall never have the blessing of God, till I have issue of my body; for they say, bearns are blessings.

Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry. Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go, that the devil drives.

Count. Is this all your worship's reason?

Clo, Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.

Count. May the world know them?

Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry, that I may repent.

Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. Clo. I am out of friends, madam; and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake.

Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. Clo. You are shallow, madam, e'en great friends; for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am a-weary of. He, that earst my land, spares my team, and gives me leave to inn the crop : if I be his cuckold, he's my drudge. He, that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he, that cherishes my flesh and blood, loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh and blood, is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wife, is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage; for young Charbon the puritan, and old Poysam the papist, howsoe'er their hearts are sever'd in religion, their heads are both one, they may joll horns together, like any deer i' the herd.

Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and calumnious knave?

Clo. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way t:

For I the ballad will repeat,

Which men full true shall find,

Your marriage comes by destiny,

Your cuckoo sings by kind.

Count. Get you gone, Sir; I'll talk with you

Count. What, one good in ten? You corrupt the song, sirrah.

Count. What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah: the complaints, I have heard of you, I do not all believe; 'tis my slowness, that I do not: for, I know, you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.

To repair here signifies to renovate. + His is put for its.

Approbation. Who have no other use of their faculties than to invent new modes of dress. To act up to your desires.

Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentleWoman entirely.

Count. Faith, I do : her father bequeath'd her to me; and she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds: there is more owing her, than is paid; and more shall be paid her than she'll demand.

Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her than, I think, she wish'd me alone she was, and did communicate to herself her own words to her own ears; she thought, I dare vow to her, they touch'd not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son :-Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates; love, no god, that would not extend his might, only where qualities were level; Diana, no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight to be surprised, without rescue, in the first assault, or ransom afterward :-This she deliver'd in the most biter touch of sorrow, that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in which I held my duty, speedily to acquaint you withal; sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns, you something to know it. Count. You have discharged this honestly; keep it to yourself: many likelihoods inform'd me of this before, which hung so tottering in the balance, that I could neither believe, nor misdoubt :-Pray you, leave me stall this in your bosom, and I thank you for your honest care:-1 will speak with you further anon. [Exit Steward.

Her eye is sick on't; I observe her now. Hel. What is your pleasure, madam? Count. You know, Helen,

I am a mother to you.

Hel. Mine honourable mistress.

Count. Nay, a mother;

Why not a mother? When I said, a mother,
Methought you saw a serpent:-What's in mother,
That you start at it? I say, I am your mother;
And put you in the catalogue of those

That were enwombed mine :-'Tis often seen,
Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds
A native slip to us from foreign seeds :
You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan,
Yet I express to you a mother's care:
God's mercy, maiden! Does it curd thy blood,
To say I am thy mother? What's the matter,
That this distemper'd messenger of wet,
The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye?
Why?That you are my daughter?

Hel. That I am not.

Count. I say, I am your mother.
Hel. Pardon, madam ;

The count Rousillon cannot be my brother:
I am from humble, he from honour'd name;
No note upon my parents, his all noble:
My master, my dear lord he is; and I
His servant live, and will his vassal die :
He must not be my brother.

Count. Nor I your mother?

Hel. You are my mother, madam; 'would you

were

(So that my lord, your son, were not my brother,) Indeed, my mother!-Or were you both our mo

thers.

law;

I care no more for, than I do for heaven,
So I were not his sister: Can't no other,
But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?
Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-
God shield, you mean it not! Daughter, and mother,
So strive + upon your pulse:-What, pale again?
My fear hath catch'd your fondness:--Now I see
The mystery of your loneliness, and find
Your salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis gross,
You love my son; invention is ashamed,
Against the proclamation of thy passion,
To say thou dost not; therefore tell me true;

• Since.

But tell me then, 'tis so:-For look thy cheeks
Confess it, one to the other; and thine eyes
See it so grossly shewn in thy behaviours,
That in their kind they speak it; only sin
And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,
That truth should be suspected :-Speak, is't so ?
If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue;
If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.

Hel. Good mad am, pardon me!
Count. Do you love my son?
Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress!
Count. Love you my son?

Hel. Do not you love him, madam?
Count. Go not about; my love hath in't a bond,
Whereof the world takes note; cone, come, disclose
The state of your affection; for your passions
Have to the full appeach'd.
Hel. Then, I confess,

Here on my knee, before high heaven and you,
That before you, and next unto high heaven,
I love your son:-

My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love:
Be not offended; for it hurts not him,
That he is loved of me: I follow him not
By any token of presumptuous suit;
Nor would I have him, till I do deserve him;
Yet never know how that desert should be.
I know I love in vain, strive against hope;
Yet in this captious and intenible sieve,
I still pour in the waters of my love,
And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like,
Religious in mine error, I adore

The sun, that looks upon his worshipper,
But knows of him no more. My dearest madam,
Let not your hate encounter with my love,
For loving where you do but, if yourself,
Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,
Did ever, in so true a flame of liking,
Wish chastly, and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herself and love; O then, give pity
To her, whose state is such, that cannot choose
But lend and give, where she is sure to lose;
That seeks not to find that her search implies,
But, riddic-like, lives sweetly where she dies.
Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly,
To go to Paris?

Hel. Madam, I had.

Count. Wherefore? tell true.

Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I swear. You know, my father left me some prescriptions Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading, And manifest experience, had collected For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me In heedfullest reservation to Lestow them, As notes, whose faculties inclusive were, More than they were in note: amongst the rest, There is a remedy, approved, set down, To cure the desperate languishes whereof The king is rendered lost.

Count. This was your motive

For Paris, was it? Speak.

Hel. My lord your son made me to think of this; Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king, Had, from the conversation of my thoughts, Haply, been absent then.

Count. But think you, Helen,

If you should tender your supposed aid,
He would receive it? He and his physicians
Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him,
They, that they cannot help: how shall they credit
A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools,
Embowell'd of their doctrine †, have left off
The danger to itself?

Hel. There's something hints,

More than my father's skill, which was the greatest
Of his profession, that his good receipt
Shall, for my legacy, be sanctified

By the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your

honour

But give me leave to try success, I'd venture
The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure,
By such a day, and hour.

Count. Dost thou believe't?

Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly.

Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave,

and love,

Means, and attendants, and my loving greetings

According to their nature.

+ Exhausted of their skill.

Flourish.-Enter KING, with young LORDS taking leave for the Florentine War; BERTRAM, PA ROLLES, and Attendants.

King. Farewell, young lord, these warlike principles

Do not throw from you:-And you, my lord, farewell :

Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all,
The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis received,
And is enough for both.

1 Lord. It is our hope, Sir,

After well-enter'd soldiers, to return
And find your grace in health.

King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart
Will not confess he owes the malady

That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords;
Whether I live or die, be you the sons

Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher Italy
(Those 'bated, that inherit but the fall'
Of the last monarchy,) see, that you come
Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when

The bravest questant + shrinks, find what you seek,
That fame may cry you loud: I say, farewell.
2 Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your ma-
jesty!

King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them;
They say our French lack language to deny,
If they demand: beware of being captives,
Before you serve.

Both. Our hearts receive your warnings.
King. Farewell.-Come hither to me.
[The King retires to a couch.
1 Lord. O my sweet lord, that you will stay be-
hind us!

Par. 'Tis not his fault; the spark--.

2 Lord. O, 'tis brave wars !

Par. Most admirable: I have seen those wars. Ber. I am commanded here, and kept a coil‡ with;

Too young, and the next year, and 'tis too early. Par. An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away bravely.

Ber. I shall stay here the fore horse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn, But one to dance with! By heaven, I'll steal

away.

1 Lord. There's honour in the theft. Par. Commit it, count.

2 Lord. I am your accessary; and so farewell. Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body.

1 Lord Farewell, captain.

2 Lord. Sweet monsieur Parolles !

Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals :You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii, one captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword intrench'd it: say to him, I live; and observe his reports for me.

2 Lord. We shall, noble captain. Par. Mars dote on you for his novices! [Exeunt Lords.] What will you do?

Ber. Stay; the king[Seeing him rise. Par. Use a more spaci us ceremony to the noble lords; you have restrain'd yourself within the list of too cold an adieu: be more expressive to them; for they wear themselves in the cap of the time, there, do muster true gait ¶, eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most received star; and though the devil lead the measure**, such are to be

i. e. Those excepted who possess modern Italy, the remains of the Roman empire. + Seeker, enquirer.

With a noise, bustle. In Shakspeare's time it was usual for gentlemen

to dance with swords on.

They are the foremost in the fashion.
Have the true military step.

The dance.

follow'd; after them, and take a more dilated farewell.

Ber. And I will do so.

Par. Worthy fellows: and like to prove most sinewy sword-men. [Exeunt Bertram and Parolies. Enter LAFEU

Laf. Pardon, my lord, [Kneeling] for me and for my tidings.

King. I'll fee thee to stand up.
Laf. Then here's a man

Stands, that has brought his pardon. I would, you
Had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy; and
That, at my bidding, you could so stand up.

King. I would I had; so I had broke thy pate, And ask'd thee mercy for't.

Laf. Good faith, across⚫ :

But, my good lord, 'tis thus; will you be cured Of your infirmity?

King, No.

Laf. O, will you eat

No grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you will,
My noble grapes, an if my royal fox

Could reach them: I have seen a medicine t,
That's able to breathe life into a stone;

Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary 1,
With spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch
Is powerful to araise king Pepin, nay,

To give great Charlemain a pen in his hand,
And write to her a love-line.

King. What her is this?

Laf. Why, doctor she: my lord, there's one arrived,

If you will see her,-now by my faith and honour,
If seriously I may convey my thoughts

In this my light deliverance, I have spoke
With one, that, in her sex, her years, profession §,
Wisdom and constancy, hath amazed me more
Than I dare blame my weakness: will you see her,
(For that is her demand,) and know her business!
That done, laugh well at me.

King. Now, good Lafeu,

Bring in the admiration; that we with thee May spend our wonder too, or take off thine By wond'ring how thou took'st it.

Laf. Nay, I'll fit you,

And not be all day neither.

[Exit Lafen.

King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.

Re-enter LAFEU, with HELENA.

Laf. Nay, come your ways.
King. This haste hath wings indeed.
Laj. Nay, come your ways;

This is his majesty, say your mind to him:
A traitor do you look like; but such traitors
His majesty seldom fears: 1 am Cressid's uncle}}
That dare leave two together; fare you well. (Erit.
King. Now, fair one, does your business follow us?
Hel. Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was
My father: in what he did profess, well found¶.
King. I knew him.

Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards him;

Knowing him, is enough. On his bed of death
Many receipts he gave me; chielly one,
Which as the dearest issue of his practice,
And of his old experience the only darling,
He bade me store up, as a triple eye**,
Safer than mine own two, more dear; I have so;
And, hearing your high majesty is touch'd
With that malignant cause wherein the honour
Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power,
I come to tender it, and my appliance,
With all bound humbleness.

King. We thank you, maiden;
But may not be so credulous of cure,-
When our most learned doctors leave us; and
The congregated college have concluded
That labouring art can never ransom nature
From her inaidable estate,-I say we must not
So stain our judgment or corrupt our hope,
To prostitute our past-cure malady

Commend me to my kinsmen and my son ;
This is not much.

Clo. Not much commendation to them. Count. Not much employment for you: you understand me?

Clo. Most fruitfully; I am there before my legs. Count. Haste you again. [Exeunt severally. SCENE III-Paris.-A Room in the KING'S Palace. Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES. Laf. They say, miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons, to make modern and familiar things, supernatural and causeless. Hence is it, that we make trifles of terrors; ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear +.

Par. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that hath shot out in our latter times.

Ber. And so 'tis.

Laf. To be relinquish'd of the artists,

Par. So I say; both of Galen and Paracelsus.
Laf. Of all the learned and authentic fellows,-
Par. Right, so I say.

Laf. That gave him out incurable,-
Par. Why, there 'tis; so say I too.
Laf. Not to be help'd,-

Par. Right; as 'twere a man assured of an--
Laf. Uncertain life, and sure death.
Par. Just, you say well; so would I have said.
Laf. I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world.
Par. It is, indeed: if you will have it in shew-
ing, you shall read it in,-What do you call there?
Laf. A shewing of a heavenly effect in an earthly

Par. And debile minister, great power, great transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a further use to be made, than alone the recovery of the king, as to be

Laf. Generally thankful.

Enter KING, HELENA, and Attendants.

Par. I would have said it; you say well :-Here comes the king.

Laf. Lustick, as the Dutchman says; I'll like a maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head:Why, he's able to lead her a coranto.

Par. Mort du Vinaigre! Is not this Helen?
Laf. 'Fore God, I think so.

King. Go, call before me all the lords in court,[Exit an Attendant.

Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side;
And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense
Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive
The confirmation of my promised gift,
Which but attends thy naming.

Enter several LORDS.

Fair maid, send forth thine eye; this youthful parcel

Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing, O'er whom both sovereign power and father's voice ¶

I have to use: thy frank election make; Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake.

Hel. To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress Fall, when love please!-Marry, to each, but one **! Laf. I'd give bay Curtal +, and his furniture, My mouth no more were broken than these boys', And writ as little beard.

King. Peruse them well:

Not one of those, but had a noble father. Hel. Gentlemen,

Heaven hath, through me, restored the king to health.

All. We understand it, and thank heaven for you. Hel. I am a simple maid; and therein wealthiest, That, I protest, I simply am a maid;

Please it your majesty, I have done already:
The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me,
We blush, that thou shouldst choose; but, be refused,
Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever;
We'll ne'er come there again.

King. Make choice; and, see,

Who shuns thy love, shuns all his love in me.
Hel. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly;
And to imperial love, that god most high,
Do my sighs stream.-Sir, will you hear my suit?
1 Lord. And grant it.

Hel. Thanks, Sir; all the rest is mute.

Laf. I had rather be in this choice, than throw ames-ace for my life .

Hel. The honour, Sir, that flames in your fan eyes, Before I speak, too threateningly replies: Love make your fortunes twenty times above Her that so wishes, and her humble love! 2 Lord. No better, if you please. Hel. My wish receive,

Which great love grant! And so I take my leave. Laf. Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine, I'd have them whipp'd; or I would send them to the Turk, to make eunuchs of.

Hel. Be not afraid [To a Lord] that I your hand should take,

I'll never do you wrong for your own sake:
Blessing upon your vows! And in your bed
Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed!

Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they'll none have her; sure, they are bastards to the English; the French ne'er got them.

Hel. You are too y sung, too happy, and too good, To make yourself a son out of my blood. 4 Lord. Fair one, I think not so.

Laf. There's one grape yet,-I am sure, thy father drank wine.-But if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen; I have known thee already. Hel. I dare not say, I take you; [To Bertram]

but I give

Me, and my service, ever whilst I live,
Into your guiding power.-This is the man,

King. Why then, young Bertram, take her, she's thy wife.

Ber. My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your highness,

In such a business give me leave to use
The help of mine own eyes.

King, Know'st thou not, Bertram,
What she has done for me?

Ber. Yes, my good lord;

But never hope to know why I should marry her. King, Thou know'st, she has raised me from my

sickly bed.

Ber. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down Must answer for your raising? I know her well; She had her breeding at my father's charge: A poor physician's daughter my wife !-Disdain Rather corrupt me ever!

King. Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which

I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods,
Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd altogether,
Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off
In differences so mighty: if she be
All that is virtuous, (save what thou dislikest,
A poor physician's daughter, thou dislikest
Of virtue for the name: but do not so:
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer's deed:
Where great additions swell ý, and virtue none
It is a dropsied honour: good alone
Is good, without a name; vileness is so:
The property by what it is should go,
Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;
In these to nature she's immediate heir;
And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born.
And is not like the sire: honours best thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a slave,

i. e. I have no more to say to you.
The lowest chance of the dice

i. e. The want of title.

6 Titles.

Good is good independent of any worldly dis

tinction, and so is vileness vile,